Nobility
by Bijzonder
Summary: When a vault hasn't been accessed for 250 years the contents are handed over to the Ministry. It just happens that the goblins don't want this particular vault's contents to go to them and that their only hope is a muggleborn girl. In the end a choice is made and Hermione Granger gets sucked in the world of pureblood politics, ploys and drama. Grey!Hermione.


**Nobility**

_When a vault hasn't been accessed for 250 years the contents are handed over to the Ministry. It just happens that the goblins don't want this particular vault's contents to go to them and that their only hope is a muggleborn girl. In the end a choice is made and Hermione Granger gets sucked in the world of pureblood politics, ploys and drama. Grey!Hermione._

**Chapter One**

_24__th__ of July, 1991._

"We've found one," the goblin, Bakrod, told his superior, "a Granger, Hermione from Southampton. Parents are muggle, she's related to the Guaires, vaults 139 and 140, through her father's side."

"Bah, muggleborn," his superior spat as the older goblin narrowed his grey eyes at Bakrod, "always trouble with those. Isn't there some pureblooded wizard scum we can saddle with 139 and 140?"

"No, just the Granger girl. No other magical heirs exist, she's a descendant of the last male Guaire, her claim is solid. I say we use her, we have just 32 years left for 139 and 140 before we have to hand it all to the filth at the Ministry. She's easily good for another century and can possibly birth magical children to continue the line."

The older goblin stroked his grey-streaked beard as he pondered over Bakrod's words, "did the Guaires sign the clause?"

"No sir, I checked, the head at that time thought it was unnecessary," Bakrod responded with a sneer.

"Then pick her, if her claim is solid the Ministry idiots can't dispute it, muggleborn or not."

Bakrod nodded curtly, his grimace showing pointed yellow teeth as he looked at his superior. His distaste for muggleborns was just a little bigger than his hate for wizards in general, itty-witty muggleborns were so _ignorant _on goblin culture. Daring to think they wanted to be talked to like a mere _human_.

"Reserve the office for today and tomorrow, their kind usually flocks here in groups with a professor just after their blasted letters arrive. Have Nobrug take the usual items for an inheritance claiming and send a letter to the Ministry that another, what were they again?"

"_Most Ancient,_" Bakrod sneered, "not noble or most noble. A house of weak rats, they were, killed themselves off because of their own idiocy."

"I know," the words were pointed and easily ended Bakrod's coming rant, "send the message. The Most Ancient house of Guaire has been revived, an heir has been found and will claim the inheritance as by the Ministry's law. I want the Guaires off of the list by tomorrow, if the girl hasn't shown herself then send Nobrug and a few of his clerks to her house. I want this situation dealt with as swiftly as possible, no time to waste."

"Very well," Bakrod nearly spat out the words, distaste at the entire situation evident in his voice. Oh, he was glad that 139 and 140 wouldn't fall in the Ministry's hands but he was just displeased with the situation in general. If wizards couldn't be bothered to deal with it themselves they always needed a goblin to sort out their messes, dumb cattle.

But Bakrod was just a mediocre clerk handling the dealings of Unclaimed Vaults and wasn't, and never would be, privy to the information on just _what _lay in the Guaire vaults. His reasoning was merely that of any decent goblin, displeasure at _anything _that was previously under their control having to be given to the Ministry.

And if he knew just what was inside those vaults he would've been much more pleased with the day's developments.

Because inside one of the two vaults lay what could possibly mean the end of the goblin-wizard truce and give the wizards the power to utterly _destroy _the whole goblin _race_.

* * *

**Nobility**

* * *

Hermione Granger bounced on the balls of her feet as they waited in front of the exchange booth, she certainly wasn't the only muggleborn eager to get started on buying all her school stuff. The huge hall was filled with people, some of them wearing _normal _clothes (mostly the ones standing in line before her) but most of them wore various coloured dresses (robes, professor McGonagall had called them) and then there were the goblins.

Tiny, often bearded and with squinty eyes and sharp nails they were a bit scary, Hermione mused as she looked away from the goblin she'd been staring at, and they most certainly didn't look like what she imagined they'd look like.

The line in front of her and her parents was slowly dwindling and Hermione beamed at her parents when there was just one family in front of them, "it's almost us, mom!"

"I know dear," her mother responded, trying not to sound out of her depth in the unfamiliar _world _that was all around them.

"Next," the goblin at the counter intoned dispassionately as the family in front of them left the booth.

"Well, err, hello sir," Hermione's father began awkwardly as they stepped in front of the booth, "we're he-"

"Name," the goblin cut them off with a sneer, pointed teeth gleaming ominously in the light of the candle that stood on the goblin's desk.

"Well, err, I'm John and-"

"_Surname_," the goblin stressed, glaring at John Granger with an expression that could have frozen an inferno.

"Right, it's Granger," John answered hastily, frowning at the goblin. Clearly poor manners weren't common in different species.

The goblin glanced at the list lying on his counter and a bony finger traced the parchment until reaching the G. There, in maroon ink was the name _Granger, _written in the familiar blocky script that was common to his people. The goblin snapped his gaunt fingers and the candle's flame flickered weakly for a moment before burning brightly again.

"If you would wait a minute a clerk will show you to a private office," the banker said with an indifferent tone as he picked up a nondescript grey quill and drew a line across the name _Granger_.

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione's mother intervened, "what is this? The people before us weren't taken to some 'private office', if this is some kind of scam-"

"We have beheaded people for lesser insults, muggle," the goblin spat as he glared down at the woman before him, "we do not scam. A clerk will take you, you will follow him to the office."

"Look, mum," Hermione spoke up suddenly, finger pointing at a goblin hastily making its way to them through the thick mass of people.

"I see it, dearest," Hermione's mother responded evenly, a minute twitch of her eye the only outward sign of her displeasure.

"Miss Hermione Granger and .. _parents_?" the goblin said once he had come close, contrary to his colleague he wore a suit and had thin, golden wire-rimmed glasses perched on his hawk-like nose beneath which sharp, grey eyes stared at Hermione.

"Yes, I'm Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you!" Hermione babbled enthusiastically as she stuck out her hand at the goblin standing in front of her.

"Charmed," the goblin said, sniffing disdainfully at the hand and then ignoring it, "I am to guide you to manager Nobrug's office. Your muggles may accompany you as long as you claim responsibility for them."

Hermione dropped her hand uncomfortably, "okay?" but her dad rounded on the newest goblin at the scene.

"And who do you think you are? If this _is _some kind of scam you're trying to pull on my _daughter _then you're in for a whole lot of trouble. I don't know if your world has lawyers but you can bet we'd sue you," her father hissed angrily as he balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white at the effort.

The goblin merely ignored them and walked away again and Hermione's mother had to give her husband a sharp look before he turned to follow the goblin in the maze of people.

* * *

**Nobility**

* * *

The office they entered after a short, brisk walk through the labyrinth of hallways that made up Gringotts, was rather blank. The walls were a dusty brown and the bland, green carpet and equally boring, sandy-brown furniture made for a rather bleary look. In the center of the room was a desk with a single armchair standing in front of it.

"Ah. Hermione Granger, you must be?" the goblin sitting behind the chair said with a sharp smile, displaying what looked like teeth made out of rock where his incisors had to be, "have a seat. I am manager Nobrug, head of the department of Claiming."

"Okay," Hermione said, a bit at a loss of words as she sat down in the armchair directly in front of Nobrug, "why did we have to come here? No other people in the line had to."

The manager smiled again and Hermione felt an actual shiver run down her back at the second sight of the goblin's incisors, "because they had no reason to be here. My department deals with the vaults that are threatened to be emptied because the family they belong to has gone extinct. But, in most cases, we are able to find a magical relative to claim the vault and family name. In your case, you are the first magical descendant to be born in 218 years since the vaults were last accessed."

"Who of is the one related to that family," John spoke up from where he was standing next to Hermione's seat.

"You are the father?" Nobrug sneered with barely as much as a glance in John's direction.

"Yes."

"Then you are the one to pass the kinship on to her," Nobrug answered with an impatient gesture of his long fingers.

"Then why is my daughter the one in the seat?" John asked with a frown, staring at the goblin with grim, brown eyes.

"Muggles have no say in magical matters," Nobrug explained matter-of-factly, "she is magical, thus the heir. The family in question is the Most Ancient House of Guaire, one that has been in existence for centuries, and did not sign the Muggleborn Inheritance Clause of 205, making it possible for a muggleborn heir to inherit leadership of the House. Therefore your daughter, being the first heir to pop up since the last head's death, is to become the Head of the House of Guaire."

"And if she says no," Hermione's mother cut in, effectively cutting of Hermione's own questions with her own.

Nobrug's smile grew even wider at this and the lines on his face deepened as the goblin leant forward, as if to tell them a secret, "under the Ministry of Magic's laws on inheritance, a sole heir to a previously extinct House with no obligations to another House, is forced to take the position of Head once he or she is made aware of it. Your daughter, muggle, has just been made aware that she is to take that very position because she is the only heir in existence. Not complying to the law is punishable by 25 years in Azkaban and the prisoner will still be made Head."

"And if she becomes Head of the Guaires, or whatever it was, will she inherit anything?" John asked sceptically as he glared steadily at the goblin sneering back at him.

"Only members of a House are privy to what lies in their vaults and what may or may not be inherited," the manager said with an unpleasant face as he drummed his fingers on the desk, "but we have dallied enough. Under Ministry law, you, Hermione Granger, are to assume the position of Head of the Most Ancient House of Guaire and retake possession of vaults 139 and 140 and reclaim the family's assets. Is there anyone to object to Hermione Granger assuming Headship of the Most ancient House of Guaire?"

Hermione's parents immediately spoke up, "we do! How _dare _you shove this on our child, she's just _eleven! _We object, vehemently for the record, you _cannot _do this to _our _daughter! Who knows what you'll sick on her, debts or some odd magical something that you lot seem so fond of."

One of the clerks lining the wall of the office stepped forward with a roll of parchment and a yellow quill while Nobrug once more bared his teeth at the angry parents standing in front of him, "muggles have no say in Magical matters, Your objections are invalid, there being no other relative to take the place of Hermione Granger I hereby accept Hermione Granger's claim."

"And if I do all of this," Hermione suddenly asked, standing up from her armchair and taking a step in the direction of Nobrug's desk, "this whole Head thing. What do I get out of it? Professor McGonagall said that some people disliked muggleborns, will this help me fit in? Are there other Heads of Houses that could possibly help me with this?"

"Of course there are, and _yes, _wizards have a respect for the Heads of a House, Ancient or not," the clerk deposited the parchment on Nobrug's table and dipped the quill in an inkwell and held it out towards Hermione, "now sign here, and not with your previous name, write Guaire down instead of Granger."

"But I'm a Granger," Hermione interjected before her parents could get a word in edgewise, "you can't just make me change my name! And don't I get to read what it says, read the small print before I sign away my soul?"

"You were born a Guaire, and _no, _you will have to sign regardless or face time in Azkaban," Nobrug hissed, "now sign, I do not have all day and afterwards I will have to go over the inheritance with you."

"Fine then. How do you spell Guaire?"

"G-U-A-I-R-E," Nobrug answered with a quirk to his lips that was more malicious that smiling as Hermione accepted the quill from his grasp.

And then Hermione, to the disbelief of her parents and in a rare act of thoughtless courage and childish naiveté, wrote her name in a flourish on the parchment with the offered quill, _Hermione Jane Guaire_ now written on the yellowing parchment on Nobrug's desk. And then it was gone, vanishing from the office without as much as a puff of smoke.

"Good," Nobrug praised calmly, "very good. Now, your muggle parents will have to leave the room. They are not privy to the ceremony and the information that will follow."

Her mother and father left seemingly calm but not before they both hugged her and her dad whispered, "I don't know what's going on but we'll write that new school of yours once we're done here, they can't get away with this."

Hermione just nodded and watched the wooden door close behind her parent's backs before she looked back at the manager still sitting in front of her. She sat back down on the chair as well, her legs feeling a bit tingly and her mind whirring.

"Very well," Nobrug started as a ledger suddenly appeared on his desk. Hermione startled and then watched curiously as Nobrug's finger trailed down the pages.

"Here it is," the goblin said, "we will start with the inheritance ceremony as directed by the Ministry of Magic, conducted here in Gringotts. Do you, Hermione Jane Guaire, formerly Granger, swear to uphold the ancient customs of your House?"

"What ancient customs do I have to uphold? And, do I _have _to? What if I want to, err, revolutionise a bit?" Hermione asked rapidly, firing off questions at the manager the moment they entered her mind, "and why did you say formerly Granger, don't I get to stay one and be a Guaire in, say, a spiritual way or merely a legal way or something?"

Nobrug sighed and narrowed his eyes at the muggleborn girl in front of her, "just say yes, we will cover the semantics in a minute."

"Fine then, _yes_."

"Do you swear to take control of your assets and manage them with wisdom benefiting of a Guaire?"

"_Yes_." Hermione said impatiently, tapping her foot on the green carpet beneath her chair.

"Now you must put on the heirloom designated as that a Head must wear," Nobrug explained as a thick, golden ring appeared on his outstretched hand. The golden band was a stark contrast against the goblin's pale skin and Hermione didn't recognize the script that encircled the band. On top of it was a dark stone with something vague engraved on it but she couldn't discern what it was.

"Does it do anything?" Hermione questioned as she stared at the ring. Her mind quickly recalled various stories she had read featuring magical rings of some sort and she frowned, "can it deem me unworthy of being a, err, Head? Or make my fingers fall off? Or _kill _me? Do I _have _to wear it or is it optional and only necessary for the ceremony?"

"Put the ring on," the goblin merely snapped as he fought to retain his composure, "the ring won't do anything, unless you are insinuating that us goblins have performed less than admirably in spitting through your ancestry and that the protective magic will indeed kill you in a most horrifying way?"

Hermione merely huffed but put the, in retrospect rather _ugly, _ring on anyway. Her whole hand immediately became warm and the too-big ring suddenly resized itself to fit snugly around her finger.

"Wicked," Hermione marvelled as she stared at the stone with newfound curiosity and after a while she saw that the engraving on the blue stone was that of a rather intricate tree with more unfamiliar scribbles etched around it.

"Yes, very," the goblin sneered dryly, "the ceremony is done now."

"So that's it? I sign a contract, which you didn't even let me read, and I say yes to some questions and put on a ring?"

"Yes, what did you expect?"

"Something more magical," Hermione responded dejectedly, "I just found out about all this, you know, magic and Hogwarts and don't really know what to expect, this certainly didn't come to mind when we left this morning. I am disappointed, really, I figured there'd at least be some lights or anything but the only magic you've shown me is vanishing the parchment and letting the ring appear out of thin air. Professor McGonagall turned the table into a horse and changed my dad's hair blue and I even did some of that accidental magic a few months ago that made my bike fly, so yes, I expected more."

Nobrug didn't respond, it wasn't his problem and he frankly didn't care about the girl and her expectations any further than that he wanted her to claim the vaults. After this the girl would be shipped off to Vault Management and would be out of his hair.

"I will now proceed to list your assets," Nobrug finally said after a short silence had lapsed between them, "at the time of the previous Head's death the Guaires were the owners of vault 139 and 140. The vaults held-"

"Can I write this down?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I will hand you the complete list once I'm finished," the goblin answered sharply as he shot a pointed glance at the girl.

"Can I show that to my parents or is that also forbidden because they are muggles?" Hermione interjected abruptly.

"You can show them the list, they are merely exempt from the official ceremony. Now, the vaults hold a wide assortment of items. Vault 139 houses furniture, a part of the family's private library, a few unimportant heirlooms such as swords, a few trinkets such as jewellery, clothes and personal belongings. It houses a sizable portion of the family's fortune, 280 galleons, 11 sickles and 240 knuts to be precise, and-"

"That was 218 years ago, yes?" Hermione suddenly asked briskly, "it is what was stored there _two hundred and eighteen _years ago?"

"Yes."

"Then I should get 218 years of interest on it, or does Gringotts not use interest?" Hermione asked as she frowned at the goblin. Her parents had explained the intricacies (for as much as they understood them) on interest a few years back and she'd read on it for a while before the subject lost its appeal to her.

"You are correct," Nobrug mumbled begrudgingly, his glare intensifying and the goblin snarled some curses in Gobbledegook under his breath, "it seems the list has not been updated with the amount after 218 years of interest. After the interest, which is averagely at 3.1%, you would have around 217,543 galleons. This is with the knuts and sickles added."

"Does that mean you used compound interest? Seeing how the vaults hadn't been accessed for 218 years."

"Yes, of course we did. Vault 140 houses the more important heirlooms and a few books. It used to contain several goblin-made items which we returned to the family of the maker as by goblin law, this is irreversible. Amongst those items were a few swords, a shield and some cutlery. More jewellery is stored in the vault alongside an amount of 1,553 galleons, which is the sum after calculating the compound interest. Apart from that it is once again filled with trinkets, more expensive furniture and other objects of little importance. The complete list will, as you demanded, be given to you once you leave."

"Is that all?" Hermione asked, already getting ready to stand up from her seat. She wanted to tell her parents about what she'd inherited and to find out just _who _the Guaires were.

"No. The Guaires are the owner of 2 cottages in Ireland and one summer home in Scotland. One of the cottages in Clifden though has been destroyed and the one in Adare is in dire need of renovations. The summer home in Inverness is in decent condition. Then there is the manor which doubles as the ancestral house in York. You will be required to use the house now that you're officially the Head of the House, not doing so may result in a Ministry-issued fine. The manor is in a rather poor condition, if you wish to use Gringotts' construction crews I can make an appointment with someone from Outside Services for you."

Nobrug cast another glance at the ledger in front of him and then glanced back at her with his usual glare, "apart from that you have claim to the title of Countess but hold no seat in the muggle peerage because yours is acknowledged by the muggle queen to be the title of a magical line of nobility."

"But shouldn't I be ruled out for anything like that because my relation is too distant? Or because-"

"Being the Countess of York follows the same rules that count for claiming headship of the Guaire House, you are the first and only available person and by accepting headship you also accept the title. Once again, refusing the title is the same as refusing the headship but seeing how you've accepted headship you've also accepted the title," Nobrug said indifferently as he signed a few documents himself before handing them to Hermione, "sign here and the Ministry will sort this mess out and you'll have a title by tomorrow, a specialised department makes sure the claim is handled swiftly without muggles interfering. The title means little in the muggle word, I must warn you, but it will all be explained in the booklet I'm legally required to give you, which will cost you twenty-one knuts which will be taken directly from your vaults. That should be all for now, a good day."

Hermione reluctantly signed the paper, reminding herself to write _Guaire _instead of _Granger _and then glanced back at the goblin in front of her who regarded her disdainfully before snapping his fingers.

With that Hermione was handed the list, which was more like a small book but weighed less than a feather, she marvelled, and an equally thick booklet (the title saying 'Magical Nobility: From Mud To Manor') and then she was unceremoniously shoved out of the office right in her parent's anxious embrace.

"What happened," they demanded the moment the door closed behind her as they hugged her close to them and peered at her face in obvious concern.

"Err," was all Hermione could muster before she handed them the list and the booklet and waited for the inevitable reaction.

* * *

**Nobility**

* * *

Nobrug bowed low before his superior, the bank director himself, before shifting to a kneeling position.

"Vaults 139 and 140 are safe again, sir," he said, glancing up at his boss's black eyes.

"The new owner knows nothing of it, yes?" the director asked pleasantly, staring down at his employee with a certain detached fondness that could oh-so swiftly turn into ice-cold hate.

"Of course not," Nobrug said, affronted that the director would think he was that stupid, "but neither does the ministry and that was aim, or so you told me, sir. And it's useless in the hands of the family, even if the girl uses it, it should prove little of a problem seeing how the enchantments were done."

"Hmm-mm," the director hummed, leaning back in his ornate chair and stroking his white beard with skeletal fingers, "very well. Check on vault 687 as well, I want the Potter boy to claim headship as well in the near future if possible, but he isn't of that much importance. How about possible successors for 990 and 666, 665 and 401? They are nearing the limit of their time and 990 has some items I'd rather not see the Ministry get their hands on."

"Very well sir."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**_Nobility_ is my baby, it will be my foray into fanfiction where I'll aim to finish this story and improve my writing. Because of that _Nobility _is a story featuring what I like best because that is something I can write about. I like Hermione, I like odd happenings and I like magic: BANG _Nobility _is born. This chapter is mostly dialogue but expect more from the next one!**

**The story is a play on the overdone Inheritance!Harry where Harry gets saddled with majestic jewellery, bazil-trillions of money, betrothal contracts, castles and manors and titles and _everything_. But why not poor Hermione? Oh yes, she's muggleborn. Her parents are dentist. But why not? Hermione _has parents_, that is something that creates a whole different thing than poor, orphan Harry who gets to do whatever he wants with his newfound epic!inheritance. Hermione's a muggleborn, and a _girl_, and altogether such a different person that I couldn't resist the possibilities.**

**So I gave her the whole deal, an ancient family and money and houses and a title and whatnot. But I created a different reason, added the rule on vaults and a whole lot of other, little things that should become clear in the chapters to follow. I made her the unwanted but necessary choice, the goblins have a similar prejudice for muggleborns, because, why not?**

**And I will write a Grey!Hermione, because almost every Inheritance!Harry features him godly/dark/grey/paragon of the light. And before you start asking, there will be no bashing in this story. Not even Ron (who I detest) or Dumbledore. I will not make Hermione way too OOC.**

**Instead I will aim to keep it as close to canon in _some _areas and blow canon away in others. Because I can, because I want to, because _Nobility _has to be a story that is within my interest so that I'll never abandon it. So expect anything and everything.**

**So thank you, very, very much for reading.**


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